A Box Of Froot Loops?
by ProngsLovesRent
Summary: Mark's getting bored of filming the homeless. One morning he decides to mess with Roger's head until the rocker explodes. And Mark documents the whole thing. Animal-Planet Style. Humor oneshot. Rated T for Roger's language.


**A/N: Please don't shoot me for writing this. Its 3:01 AM, and I have NO idea where this came from, why I'm writing it, or if it makes sense. So yeah…I may take it down if I wake up and realize that it makes no sense at all.**

**Jon Larson owns you. Or at least he owns Rent.**

So maybe what I'm doing to Roger is a _little_ bit cruel.

And cruel is a strong, STRONG word too. I mean it was an _unkind_ idea at most…maybe a tad bit brutal.

Okay, okay. It's downright vindictive messing with his head like this…But I can't help it! I need something worthy of documenting. Besides, I have to film something AMUSING! I've filmed _countless_ homeless people. And they don't even like me! They're so incredibly rude to me on the street. People just don't understand that my documentaries really ARE filmed for the greater good. I'm such a misinterpreted artist.

Misinterpreted artist. Huh. I like that. It's...mysterious. _Sexy,_ even. I wonder if Maureen's ever looked at me as a misinterpreted artist…

_Shit_. Here he comes!

"Close on Roger," I begin, wielding my camera, and recording him as he pads into the kitchen area groggily. "starting his day the Roger way, with-"

"A box of Cap'n Crunch…" He finishes my sentence, without even glancing in my direction. "Mark, why the fuck are you filming? It's like 9 o'clock in the morning. I just woke up…put that goddamn thing down." He demands, digging through the refrigerator for a carton of milk, which of course we don't have.

"Roger is bitter because he hasn't bathed yet and is forced to live with his own ungodly stench 24/7. Mr. Davis doesn't approve of being filmed before he's taken his shower, once he's nice and pretty." I continue, to his obvious dismay. He's reaching into the cabinet now. He sighs, slightly irritated.

"Whatever you say, Cohen…" He mumbles, still tired and somewhat unresponsive.

"_We observe the Roger in his natural habitat. It's just awoken from its long period of hibernation and is on the prowl again, looking for some food to make up for the long period of time in which it fasted_." I narrate, switching to Animal Planet mode. That's what Roger is in the morning anyway. An animal. A bigggggg, mean, grizzly bear.

He pours his cereal, still not noticing what's wrong here.

"But will the specimen fail to notice the alterations made to his environment?"

He looks over his shoulder at me, with a confused, disturbed look. I just shrug at him. He shakes his head and turns back around, bringing a cereal-filled spoon to his mouth, he stops abruptly.

"THESE ARE FUCKING FROOT LOOPS!"

"_The specimen has noticed the first adjustment in his environment_…"

"WHERE THE FUCK IS MY CAP'N CRUNCH? MARK COHEN, YOU ASSHOLE!"

"_The Roger seems angered by this modification_…"

"DAMN FUCKING SKIPPY, I'M ANGERED!"

"_He's resorted to talking like an 80-year-old man_."

"FUCK YOU!"

"_With more profanities_…"

"MARK! WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MY CEREAL?"

"_It is still uncertain how the creature will respond to the other developed changes that will conflict its routine_."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN _OTHER_ CHANGES? WHAT THE HELL ELSE DID YOU DO?"

"_It seems that it is ready to strike an attack against its innocent victim_…"

"_WHAT_ ARE YOU DOING?!"

"_The specimen is still in a state of shock_."

"I WILL NOT BE YOUR TWISTED DISCOVERY CHANNEL DOCUMENTARY, COHEN!"

"_Animal Planet."_

"WHATEVER!" Roger exclaims. His face is reaching an almost tomato-esque shade of red in his rage. He looks around as if there might be something big and heavy that he could chuck at my head, but he doesn't seem to find anything. He takes a deep breath, "I will deal with you _after_ I've had my coffee…" He says decidedly.

"_The wild animal is tamed by the prospect of quenching its thirst_…"

He grabs the coffee pot irritably and pours the contents into his mug. He tips it into his mouth, and proceeds to spit all over the floor of the loft.

As you may have guessed, that shit's not coffee.

"WHAT IS _THIS_?" he yells, pointing exaggeratedly at the cup, "SATAN'S PISS?!"

"_The replacement of its regular daily nourishment with Green Tea seems to put off the Roge_r."

"_GREEN_ TEA? That's low Scarf Boy…"

"_It has sunk to the level of petty insults that it seems to think are clever_."

The loft door slides open, and Mimi walks in. I wasn't expecting her, but I'm sure I can make her work to my advantage.

"_It appears to be mating season!_"

"What's he talking about?" She asks Roger confusedly, raising her eyebrows.

"I have no fucking clue! Did he change _you_ too? To see if I'll throw a tantrum for the camera!? "

"I'm pretty sure I'm still me…" Mimi says uncertainly, strangely enough pulling a face as if trying to remember whether or not I'd altered her in any way. She is a smart one, that girl.

"He thinks I'm his fucking Meerkat today." Roger explains heatedly.

"_Grizzly Bear._" I correct him.

"What does that make me?" Mimi questions curiously.

"The female Grizzly Bear?" I suggest, considering what role Mimi is to play.

"Couldn't I be something in the Cat family?"

"Well, I'm not sure leopards and grizzly bears get along very well…"

"You're fucking INSANE! BOTH OF YOU!" He yells, "I'm going to get dressed!" He decides, walking off into his bedroom and slamming the door.

"What's his deal?" Mimi says once he's gone.

"Not everyone appreciates nature, Mimi."

"Truer words have never been spoken, Mark."

I nod, and open my mouth to start a conversation when I'm cut off by a blood-curdling scream from Roger's room.

"COHENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!"

"_The specimen seems to have discovered what has been done to his plaid pants_…"

**A/N: Like I said, I don't know what I was doing here. So review if you like. I need to get to sleep. I get much too insane at this hour. Umm…yes review. That'd be cool. And I know it was crackish and random.**

**With kerplunks, kablams, and kerpows of doom,**

**ProngsLovesRent**


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